housekeeping; a few violent little daydreams

I know it has been longer than you like since I posted. I know I have some photos that need uploading. I also have bills waiting to be paid and this whole year's worth of financials to be entered into a spreadsheet. Ok not the whole year. But most of it. Sometimes a woman like me just has to procrastinate.

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I swear to god my liver wants to crawl out of my body and eat somebody's face.
For those of you who do not hold degrees in Chinese Medicine, the liver is the organ of Crabby. Of Pissed Off. A little irritable are we? All liver, baby. My constitution tends to be a wee bit livery. On the other hand, it might be my Dad's liver that wants to crawl out and eat your face. If I am pissy in general, one could posit that I got it from him. Apples and trees, you know. Chips and blocks. Chips and shoulders!

The other day I was driving home from my little nest on the mountain and I saw a Hummer parked in front of the Hippie Hemp Clothing Store for Trustafarians. It was yellow. It also had a BIODIESEL sticker on it. Since I was waiting forever at a stoplight at Malfunction Junction, I had a good few minutes to ponder this. Because I am not immune to irony, I had to snort. Then I went into the HHCST and glanced around. Roundracks chock full of shapeless hemp gunnysack dresses obscured my view. I dove and crawled on my belly towards the bookcases in the back of the store. Leaning against the wall and perusing the magazine "Living Without" was my target. A college kid dressed in thrift store clothing, his Hummer keys hanging out of his tattered pocket. I sprang into action and throttled the kid. "Wake up and smell the nag champa, you piece of shit!" Then I launched into a lengthy diatribe about how fucking sick of his Hummer I was, and how fucking sick of him I really was. A small herd gnomes entered the store on my behalf, and spirited him away for a good beating, but not before firebombing his hummer. They were singing "I like big butts" in unison, very cheerfully.

A quickie involving me, a fire extinguisher, and the incessantly barking terrier in the car outside my treatment room.

My liver is feeling somewhat soothed by now. I think I will kick back with a bottle of Jack Daniels and clean my gun. I've got a mission about turn signals to attend to.